


he's the sunrise after twelve years of darkness...

by strikeoflight (lennonless)



Category: Eleanor & Park - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennonless/pseuds/strikeoflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleanor's friends ( coworkers ) have been hounding her to get an account for weeks now. They've been marveling to her about how they've used it to reconnect with their childhood friends and found out how their highschool sweethearts are up to. They've also been revealed to not take her pleas of 'no' and 'I'm really good without one', because about a week ago they made an account for her... And now that she has one, there really isn't a reason she shouldn't use it... All she wants to do is see what Park's up to anyways.</p><p>/// The one where it's 2010, and Eleanor finally gets a facebook and one of the first things she does is look up Parks name... Park couldn't be more than shocked to find a message in his inbox from his ( one and only ) love. ///</p>
            </blockquote>





	he's the sunrise after twelve years of darkness...

_Take a deep breath._

It’s strange how someone you haven’t spoken to for over twenty years has the same effect on you as they did when you saw them on a daily basis. Back when you could walk for fifteen minutes to see them. You didn’t have to hang onto the hope that _maybe_ they had an account on this social media account your friend made for you. When you got to escape from reality for a moment or two, laughing and smiling, and letting all your worries fall to the back of your mind.

Life was simpler back then. As complicated as that is to process with your younger years filled with tears, and stepfathers, and bruises covered by sweaters and ties. Filled with nasty words scrawled on textbooks, derogatories yelled at you by people you wish you’d never met. They were also filled with someone you would do anything to see for a moment or two again. Someone that provided you with a couple hours of happiness and joy, someone you wish you never cut out of your life.

Because he was the sunrise after twelve years of darkness. And you were only the sunset everyone was waiting on so they could see the stars. He was a light stroll in the park on a Sunday afternoon. You were broken dishes in the middle of a fight after too many Bud Lights and too many broken promises. He was sixteen years of love from both parents. You were sixteen years of exasperated sighs and desperate hits and being left behind. He was a pile of unopened letters. You were one three worded postcard. He was all right. And you, my dear, were all wrong.

_Take. A. Deep. Breath._

There’s a war going on in the red head’s mind as she struggles to decide on whether or not she wants to do this. The decision is not life or death in the slightest, but it feels that way for her. Because nearly every day after she left, she’s thought about how he’s been. And how he’s doing, and whether or not his life is better without her. He’s a series of what-ifs that Eleanor’s not sure she wants to know the answer for. She’s unsure if she wants to face the reality of what happened to him. Reality’s scary as hell. But facing the reality of what happened isn’t the only reason she’s afraid to search his name.

Coworkers have been telling her that the essence of this site is that you can reconnect with people you knew in the past. That you can ignite old flames. That’s the thing she’s afraid of. She doesn’t want to admit that he’s an ‘old flame’. She doesn’t want to think about how he’s someone she knew from the past. The girl knows those are the two most accurate ways to describe him.

Yet, when she even thinks about how everything they’ve ever had together is a thing of the past, she feels guilty. She feels guilty for never responding to his letters. She feels guilty for never once making an attempt to contact him. She feels guilty for only sending him that one three-worded postcard. When she thinks about how he’s a thing of the past, Eleanor feels guilty for entering his life in every way.

_Eleanor. Take a deep breath._

Around now is when she realizes that her hands, hovering over the keyboard, are shaking. She’s wondering just when that started to happen, she’s wondering why even the thought of him is having such a toll on her still. She’s _wishing_ he didn’t have such a toll on her still. She’s wishing that he could just be someone she looks up on a rainy afternoon after work. She’s wishing he wasn’t someone she spends hours on, thinking of what to say, and thinking of how much she’ll be crushed if it turns out that he’s fine without her.

And with a ragged breath, the red head realizes that she hasn’t been fine since she took a step out of that pickup truck. She left a sense of happiness any normal person would cherish for the rest of their life. She left that sense of happiness for a sense of safety. But that’s what he would of wanted for her, wouldn’t he? He should of been alright with it, in a small sense atleast, because her leaving him meant she’d finally be safe —- or at least that’s what she’s been telling herself.

Eleanor takes another deep breath before finally starting to type out his name, fingers faltering by the time she gets to his last name. He’s the first one that pops up, and she knows it’s him; she just knows that the sixteen pixel preview is him. So with a soft click of the mouse, she’s finding herself on the loading screen of his profile. And it’s most likely the only time she’s not annoyed by the lag this computer provides… it gives her another moment or two to prepare herself with what she’ll see.

_His smile doesn’t reach his eyes._

That’s the first thing she realizes once it finally loads. A truly genuine smile has always been something evident on her face when she thinks back of the Park she used to know. But in this photo he seemed like he was just pulling on the smile as a ploy, to make whoever was taking happy ( something Eleanor’s done countless amounts of time ). She can’t help but wonder when the last time he had a, honest-to-god, smile was.

Scrolling down the page, she comes across a photo that makes her breath catch. There’s a picture from high school, titled ‘can’t believe this is over twenty years old’. It was a picture of Park, Tina, and Steve just outside the entrance of the school. Steve’s leaning his arm on Park’s head ( who is wincing quite a bit ), and Tina’s to the right looking like she’s just rolled her eyes. And —— _wait_. She’s leaning closer to the computer screen, trying to get a closer look at the photo. And if she’s correct, you can see a younger version of herself in the background. With her head looking to the ground, holding her books to her chest. Another moment of looking there’s no doubt that it’s Eleanor; not many other redheads with ties wrapped around their wrists went to that school.

Her heart’s fluttering with that photo, she hasn’t had any relics of their time spent together other than that tin box full of unopened letters stored under her bed. And she wouldn’t be surprised if Park had at least one photo of the two together, ones his mom took at dinner one night or something of that sort. He’d most likely have a yearbook too… He’d have their school pictures.

_Okay Eleanor, you can do this._

In the past thirty seconds since she’s seen the photo, the thought of messaging him has popped into her head. And she knows that she doesn’t want it to be something cliche like, ‘Hey, it’s been awhile. I’d love to chat and reconnect!’. She wants it to be something meaningful, something to just tell him she hasn’t forgotten him. Something that just lets him know she’s still alive, something that will make hopefully make up for ignoring all his letters; even if it’s in the smallest way.

Eleanor doesn’t even need for him to reply. Just thinking about reaching out to him in the smallest way is making her feel better. All she wants is a small way to talk to him again… Because isn’t that the point of this website? The whole reason her friends convinced her to join? So her cursor ventures towards the ‘message’ button on the corner of his profile, taking a moment before clicking.

And with a deep breath, she starts to write.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so so much for reading! I'd love it if you could tell me what you thought of it in the comments, and I'd be eternally grateful if you click the kudos button!
> 
> This is is most likely going to be a two chapter fic? But if it gets to the second chapter and I have more to write for this story line /// quite a few of you want me to continue it, I'll try my best to add a couple more chapters.
> 
> If you need me or want me to clarify something or just want me to list headcanons I have for these characters you can always message me on my tumblr ( strikeoflight ) !!!


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